An Ocean Apart (33 page)

“You're not trying to tell us that you think Tarvy's Gin is a big account?” Russ interjected, rankled by Sam's slanted accusation, and too thick-skinned to realize that it would be more diplomatic to allow his CEO to finish making his point. “I mean, you read out the UK sales figures just then, and I wouldn't say they're over-impressive. Okay, I grant you, these are probably indicative of the fact that it
is
a fairly new product in the UK, but there again, Sam, it's going to be totally new over here, and we'll be running up against the likes of Gordon's and Beefeater.”

Sam held out his hands in exasperation. “But don't you see, Russ? Come on! What else did I read out?”

Russ leaned on the arm of his chair and bit at a finger-nail, not sure what his managing director meant. Sam looked at both his account execs. “Don't either of you see what I'm getting at?”

There was a moment's silence, broken eventually by the sound of Jennifer Newman's pen hitting her pad as she lobbed it onto the table.

“What you're saying—I think, Sam—is that it's not simply Tarvy's Gin that is important, more the fact that it is the new house gin for Gladwin Vintners, who also have Glentochry Blend Whisky and Valischka Vodka as house brands. You were saying that both of these command fairly sizeable market share in the UK, even though they are not prestige products. The gin is a relatively new product for them, so they give us the chance to push this one on a low promotional budget, and then, if it takes off, they might consider doing the same with their whisky and vodka products over here, hopefully through the same company. That means whoever wins the Tarvy's contract could eventually end up with the complete brand range of Gladwin Vintners.”

Sam clicked his fingers and pointed at Jennifer. “Exactly. And that's what all the other top agencies in Manhattan would be thinking, and that's what they would be going for.” Sam smiled at his female executive. “Thanks, Jennifer.”

Russ chewed noisily on his gum and glanced across at Jennifer, giving her a look of light-hearted disdain at being upstaged. He turned back to Sam.

“Come on. There's nothing to back up that theory. It's pure supposition.”

“Okay, so it is. But I really think we're going to
have
to start taking a few risks and spend a bit more time and resources on R and D, otherwise we could quite easily be brought down by our own complacency. I mean, we need something to put fire in our bellies, and I reckon that this account is as good a way as any of achieving that—and, as I said beforehand, the publicity would be terrific!”

Russ shrugged his shoulders in resignation. “Okay, so we do it. Who's going to handle it?”

Sam pointed his finger down the table. “I want you to do it, Jennifer.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Why not? What's the timetable?”

“A month, to be precise.” He watched tentatively her reaction to this, seeing her eyes widen as she began to understand the implications of his remark.

“Are you saying this proposal has to be completed in a
month,
Sam?”

“Yup, 'fraid so. This document has already been out for about three weeks, and I've only just got my hands on it.” He opened up to the first page and began reading. “Proposals have to be submitted by Saturday, the fourth of July, at the latest, and Gladwin's will be announcing the successful agency on the seventh. So I'm afraid no Independence Day break for any of us this year.”

Jennifer let out a long whistle as Sam looked up from the document at Russ.

“Okay, so it may be a long shot, but let's go all out to get this goddamned account!”

Half an hour later, Jennifer left the boardroom, cradling the papers and her notepad, laden with action points, in the crook of her arm. She walked along the corridor and was about to enter her office when her secretary appeared from the room opposite. “Jennifer, that's Jasmine for you on line two.”

“Ah, right, thanks. Oh, Mandy, here,” she said, handing her secretary the notepad, “could you type this up ASAP?”

“Sure thing.”

“Thanks.”

She walked into her office, and throwing the document onto the desk, she picked up the receiver and pressed the flashing button on the set. “Jasmine?”

“Hi, Jennifer.”

“Nothing's wrong, is it?”

“No, not really.”

“What does that mean?” Looping the telephone cord over her desk lamp, she walked around behind her desk and sat down. “Is there or is there not something wrong?”

“Well, there's nothin' wrong with Benji, which I guess is what you're meanin'. It's just that Germaine was real late in pickin' him up—I mean, all of thirty-five minutes late—and, well, Benji did the right thing and walked home.”

“Oh, for Chrissakes, Jasmine!”

“Now don't start gettin' on your high horse, Jennifer! He did right. He couldn't go on waitin'. He didn't know if she was goin' to turn up or not!”

“Okay, so what happened?”

“Germaine came here just as Benji arrived home and started to tear strips off the poor boy, and er, I kinda got angry with her, I'm afraid, Jennifer, and she headed off, saying she was goin' to get in touch with you. She obviously hasn't yet.”

Jennifer scanned her desk for a message. “No, I don't think so. I've been in a meeting for the past hour, so I wouldn't know. She probably won't at any rate. She knows she's in the wrong.”

“Yeah, well, she sure as hell was out of line.” Jasmine paused. “The trouble is, Jennifer, she's not goin' to do the run any more.”

“Oh, God,” Jennifer sighed, brushing her hand over head. “What on earth are we going to do now? I am
not,
repeat,
not
going to allow him to walk to school, Jasmine.”

“Yup, that's what I thought you'd probably say. Okay, in that case I think that I may have come up with an alternative.”

“What's that?”

“David has offered to take him.”

“David? Who's David?”

“The gardener, Jennifer.”

“Jasmine!” Jennifer leaned forward heavily on the desk. “You cannot be serious! We don't know him from Adam! I mean, he could be a—a child molester or something! I mean—”

“He is
not
a child molester, Jennifer. To be quite honest, I don't think I've ever met someone less like a child molester. He's a decent guy.”

“Oh? And how can you tell that after he's only been there for two days?”

There was a pause at the other end of the line.

“Well,” Jasmine said at last, “because Germaine called Benji stupid and then started in on a racial, and David came across the lawn and cut in and told her to go!”

“Ah—I see.” Jennifer swore quietly at herself for being so one-track-minded. “I'm sorry, Jasmine. I didn't realize. What a bitch! How
dare
she?”

“It don't matter. Anyway, I can really vouch for David, Jennifer. I mean, he's here with Benji right now, out on the court teaching him how to play tennis.”

“You're joking!”

“Nope, I am not!
And
he's going to teach him how to play the guitar.”

“We don't have a guitar, Jasmine.”

“Well, that other thing then. The uke … something.”

“The ukulele?”

“Yeah, that's it. There's one in Benji's bedroom.”

Jennifer sat back in her chair. “That's incredible! And is Benji quite happy with all this going on?”

“Jennifer, I haven't seen that boy look so plumb happy for the longest time!”

The door of her office opened and Jennifer turned in her chair to see Sam and Russ enter. “Hang on just a minute.” She put her hand over the receiver, but Sam waved his hands at her to indicate that she should carry on with the conversation. Jennifer smiled and took her hand away from the receiver.

“Jasmine? Right, okay, if you think it's all right. I mean, it
sounds
all right, so yes, let David take Benji to school.”

“That's great! I tell you truthful, Jennifer, I think that David could be the making of your boy.”

“Well, let's not go overboard.”

Jasmine laughed. “Okay, but you wait and see. I'll go tell them now.”

“All right, and give Benji a big kiss from me.” She put down the telephone and looked across at Sam and Russ who, by this time, had pulled up chairs opposite her desk.

“Everything all right at home?” Sam asked, a concerned look on his face.

“I guess so,” Jennifer replied, nodding. “We've got a new gardener who seems to be something of a Superman. He's teaching Benji how to play tennis right now.”

“That's great! Hey, speaking of which, we must get a game sometime! I haven't played this season yet.”

“Well, come on out,” Jennifer said, flicking open her desk diary. “Maybe not this weekend, because I want to get started on this.” She pointed to the document. “But what about the one after?”

Sam put his hand in his inside pocket and pulled out his diary and began to leaf through it. “No, nothing on. Molly and I would love to do that.”

“Okay, then that's a date!”

“Is Alex going to be around?” Russ asked, taking his own diary out of his pocket.

Jennifer smiled. “I could try to get hold of him and ask. Do you want to give him his yearly thrashing?”

“Well, he's about the only guy who can give me a decent game.”

Jennifer and Sam gave each other a knowing look, and noticing this, Russ raised his hands in innocence. “It's true, I tell you!”

“Okay, I'll give him a ring.” Jennifer jotted it down on her desk-pad, then dropped her pen on the desk. “Now why I am being honoured with this visit from you both?”

Sam pushed himself out of his chair and stretched his hands above his head. “No reason, really. Only that we're going out for a quick drink and wondered if you would like to join us. Probably be the last opportunity that we'll all have for some time.”

Jennifer smiled at both men, then shook her head. “That's sweet of you, but I'd better not.” She picked up the document on the desk and started leafing through it. “I really want to get started on this.”

Sam's face broke into a broad grin. “Great! I'm glad to hear it!” He took a pace over to Russ, who sat with a disgruntled pout on his face, and held out his hand. “That's what I call commitment, don't you, Russ?”

Russ looked round at him, and after a brief moment made a reluctant show of pulling a ten-dollar bill from the top pocket of his jacket and thrusting it into Sam's open hand. Jennifer's mouth fell open and she threw the papers back onto her desk, shaking her head in disbelief. “You two! You were betting on me coming with you, weren't you?”

“No, get it right!” Sam said, giving her a wink. “
Russ
was betting on you coming, while I, as always, had total confidence in you, and subsequently…” He folded the bill in two, placed it in his top pocket and gave it a little pat “… the outcome of our bet!”

“You men are such
babies!
” Jennifer jumped to her feet, and picking up her pen from the desk, made to throw it at them both.

“Uh-oh!” Russ exclaimed, ducking out of his chair and moving fast after Sam who, laughing loudly, had managed to beat a hasty retreat to the door. The two men pushed and jostled each other outside into the corridor, then Russ turned and stuck his head round the corner of the door. “Don't forget to call Alex!”

The pen hit the door a foot to the right of his nose. He glanced surprised at the point of impact, then, sticking out his tongue, closed the door quickly before further retribution could be administered.

“Goddamned schoolboys!” Jennifer said, smiling to herself. She walked over to retrieve her pen, then, returning to her chair, fell back into it and reached forward to pick up the telephone receiver. She pushed a button for one of the stored numbers and opened the document in front of her, closing it immediately when she heard an answer.

“Hello?”

“Hi, darling! It's me!”

“Oh, hi! Hang on, Jennifer, it's too noisy here. Just keep talking, though.”

“Where are you?”

“San Francisco airport. I'm just about to catch a flight to Houston. Okay, is that better?”

“Yes, much.”

“So, how're things?”

“Great! Sam's just given me a new contract to work on. Could be the big one for us.”

“Glad to hear it. Listen, can you be quick 'cos I'm going to have to go.”

“Oh—okay. In that case, could you just check your calendar and see if you're going to be back in Leesport the weekend after next? I've invited Sam and Molly out for tennis, and, well, Russ wants to come out to get his game of singles with you.”

“Oh, hell, do I have to play him? It's just one big ego trip as far as he's concerned. I mean, he beats me every time.”

“I know, darling. But can you make it anyway—for me?”

“Look, I don't have my calendar here, but I'll do my best to keep the weekend free. Okay?”

“Yeah, that's fine.”

“All right. Well, I'd better be off.”

“Okay. Have a good flight.”

“Will do. See you.”

“Yeah, see you.”

Jennifer replaced the receiver and sat staring at the phone, suddenly feeling low at the lack of spontaneity in their conversation. “Love you,” she said quietly to herself.

There was a knock on her door and Mandy entered the room and came across to her desk. “Here are your notes.”

“That's great, Mandy. Going home now?”

“Yup, if that's okay?”

Jennifer lifted her head from her notes and smiled at her. “Yeah, fine. I'll see you in the morning.”

As the door closed, she glanced back at the telephone, wondering if she should try calling Alex again. No, he'd said he was in a rush—it would probably just be a nuisance to him. She shook her head to support her decision, then pulled the file towards her and ran her hand down its centre to crease it open.